Dice
by Pickled Lemons
Summary: Nothing can compare...to when you roll the dice and swear your love's for me...OneShot, DraMione, SongFic


She heard the light tapping of his immaculately polished shoes down the corridor, before the golden door handle swung down, and he pushed it open. She refused to look up from her position on the floor, but she heard him step into the room and close the door again. A light noise- he flicked a switch, and she felt blinded, though her head was still buried in her knees.

She lifted a hand, and shielded her eyes. Her soft, matted hair was splayed across her neck and face, and salty, dried tears stained her cheeks. Beside her was a half empty bottle of amber liquid.

He crossed the room, and knelt down beside her. She was acutely conscious of the muffled sound of his tailored trousers on the floor, and the soft, calm noise of his breathing. She kept her head down, but from the corner of the eye she could see part of his silk shirt, now crumpled, and the top of shiny, well-cut pants. There was an uneven, squarish bulge in one pocket.

He leaned forward, and his slim fingers gripped the bottle. She heard him bring it to his lips, and sensed the metallic liquid seeping down his throat. There was silence for a few moments, and then she felt small drops of cold liquid on the back of her neck.

Immediately, she uncurled herself and glared at him through bloodshot eyes. 'Don't you dare throw that wine at me!' she snapped. Her voice was harsh and brittle.

He cocked a slender eyebrow at her, and his steely eyes glinted. 'Something wrong?' he asked, seating himself comfortably on the floor beside her. Hermione was painfully aware of how terrible she looked next to him, in his impeccable clothes, glistening white-blonde hair that was swept back, the cold, high-cheek boned face, and his eyes…Draco Malfoy's eyes, chilly and dark and gray. She felt his gaze rake over her untidy mass of hair, torn clothes and tear-stained face, and felt another pang of pain.

_He has no idea…no idea how it feels._

'Something _wrong?_' she asked, shrilly. 'Why would you think that?'

He looked amused. 'Come on, Mya. What's the matter?'

She gripped the bottle, and wrenched it out of his hands. She dragged it to her lips and felt the liquid surrounding her tongue, numbing her pain a little more. She closed her eyes, and savored the feeling, and when she opened them again, she saw his eyes, the way they burnt in the closeness of the room and the cruelty that was reflected in them.

'I hate you.' She whispered, softly. 'Goddamn you, Malfoy. I hate you.'

He chuckled. 'Come now. Don't say things like this, my dear.'

'I _hate_ you, Malfoy! Get out of my house!'

He watched her, and his eyes darkened slightly. 'I'm going nowhere.' He said, abruptly. 'This is my house as much as it's yours.'

She didn't answer him, but took another long swig of the wine. Draco noticed that it was rapidly getting over. A trickle of the dark liquid slid down from the corner of her lip to her chin, like a drop of blood. She brought up a small, pale hand and wiped it off.

Her silence seemed to irritate him even more. He was aware of the fact that he was not fully in his senses- a light wave of pleasure and numbness was lapping his brain. He looked at her baleful, red eyes, and felt another flash of anger.

'This is _my _house.' He replied, loudly. 'And you're my wife!'

A laugh broke out from her lips, an unhappy sadistic laugh. 'Yes.' She agreed, her face still twisted with dark amusement. 'And you're my husband. So why do you leave, Draco?'

He looked confused. 'Leave?'

'Yes, leave!' her breathing was heavy. 'Leave for your stupid bloody casino and your money and drink and week and girls and leave me _alone_ every night.'

He laughed uneasily. 'Hermione- Hermione… don't say these-.'

'I _will_ say these things!' her voice rose. 'Why shouldn't I? They're true, aren't they? Look at you- you're shirt's crumpled and you have lipstick on your collar! And I can smell the drink and weed in your breath. Don't lie to me Draco. You're my husband.'

He growled softly. 'I suggest you don't make such-.'

'Accusations? Or do you mean the truth? Because that's what it is, isn't it? What is our marriage, Draco? An empty shell of dreams, that's all! Every night, every day, it's the same!'

He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder. It was too heavy for her to shake off. 'But I _love_ you, Hermione.'

She glanced up at him, her eyes hollow and unhappy.

'Nothing can compare to when you roll the dice and swear your loves for me.'

There was a brief silence, which Draco diffused by laughing. 'Don't kid around with me! There's no matter of _dice_ over here. My relationship with you isn't a gamble.'

'You're right.' Hermione agreed. 'Not a gamble. Just a screen behind which you hide when you're with the blonde cocktail bitches at the casino. How many did you do tonight, Draco? Three?'

His eyes flashed. 'I didn't _do _ anyone.'

His hand tightened on her shoulder. 'Believe me, Hermione. My love is only for you.'

With a little cry, she struggled out his grip. '_No, _Draco! I won't hold with this!'

'With what?"

'_This! _Your- your philandering, your infidelities, the drinking and smoking…and then coming back to me and seducing me into being with you again!'

'Hermione, I-.'

'_No_ Draco! You don't understand the effect you have on me! So- so soft and deep and pleasant- so _addictive!_ You're like a drug to me. When I'm with you, I forget my dignity, my self-respect!' Her voice softened a little. 'I'm floating on a dark lake…and there's nobody else…'

His hand gently found her shoulder again, and massaged that little spot of sunken skin below her neck. With a start, she jerked free.

'Not again!' she cried. 'I won't let you do this to me again! This- this is the _last_ time, Draco!'

He moved a little closer. 'What is that supposed to mean, Hermione?"

She opened her mouth, but at the last moment, his lips came down to hers, soft and wet, sucking on her own. His taste, his breath was metallic and addictive, and she found her hands winding round him, clinging to his shoulder pathetically. She felt his hot body pressed against her own, and felt like she was losing herself, losing herself in his warm, dark depths.

His hands found her waist and wrapped firmly around them, rocking her body against his. She struggled to grip her thoughts…she shouldn't be doing this, she knew that much. But- but_ why _not? She tried to remember, but all she could feel was Draco's warmth against her. And then it came to her- she relaxed in his arms. _Of course_ there was no reason why not- she loved him, married him- and he loved her to. She was silly to think that he was philandering. Never mind that she could smell another woman's perfume on him, the fumes of alcohol touching her from his tongue. He hadn't done anything. He loved her.

From somewhere, in the darker depths of her mind, something floated to her tongue. She wasn't aware of saying it loud, but it touched her tongue, nonetheless. Lost in his dark embrace, and opened her mouth and spoke.

'Nothing can compare…to when you roll the dice and swear your loves for me…'

His mouth was warm against her ear. He whispered, 'There's no matter of _dice_ over here.'

She lost herself at those words, lost herself in him and with him. Jumbled thoughts filled her head, but she pushed them away. His arms adjusted themselves around her, and she felt him picking her up. The bedroom closed around them in a rush, and she felt the muskiness and the heat and the softness of the sheets all at once. There was a pure pleasure, a feeling of satisfaction, and then she lay beside him in the dark, strangely alone. From somewhere, she could hear soft music.

_Nothing can compare…to when you roll the dice and swear your loves for me…_

Outside in the parlor, amidst the mess of books and bottles, something lay on the ground- a couple of dice, white with dark black spots. They had fallen out of his pocket when he lifted her up.


End file.
